An Odd Week In Sunnydale
by JoeNobody
Summary: The Scoobies have an odd week - even by Sunnydale standards. Rated T for a single, subtle adult reference.


**An Odd Week In Sunnydale**

_Author's Note: this is set at some point in the 5__th__ or 6__th__ seasons, because I wanted to have both Dawn and Tara in it. But it's not tied to any particular time or event in that period._

It had been a quiet week in Sunnydale. Which would be welcome news to certain Sunnydale residents, but long experience had taught them that quite often "quiet" simply meant that the inevitable "noise" would be considerably louder. So the Scooby Gang found themselves jumping at the slightest odd event, suspicious-looking person, or even unusual feelings. They even avoided doing anything that might invite the powers of evil into acting – including not holding a party for Xander's birthday. He'd sulked briefly, but even he knew there was a difference between "tempting fate" and "taunting fate with a giant 'KICK ME' sign."

But, by common agreement, no one spoke of their fears at their gatherings. Instead, they brought up these trivial events, batted them around, and then moved on, talking around their fears.

This time, they were meeting in the back of The Magic Box. The group – Buffy, Giles, Dawn, Anya, Xander, Willow, and Tara – were all looking for an excuse to end the totally-unproductive gathering when the bell rang, announcing a customer.

Xander jumped up. "I'll get it!" he declared, rushing out the door to the shop proper before Giles or Anya point out that he wasn't, technically, an employee of the shop. The door swung shut, and the remaining Scoobies sat there in silence.

Finally, Giles spoke. "I've been reluctant to bring this up, but has anyone else..." he paused to polish his glasses, the recognized sign that he was stalling, "...felt like the victim of some... odd events lately?"

Anya answered in a completely-unconvincing tone. "Why, no, Giles. I'm certain no one else has. In fact, we should just all pretend that you said nothing."

Willow interrupted. "No, Giles, go on."

Giles' glasses got another polishing. "It's just... um... the other morning, when I was having my morning tea, for a brief moment, it seemed that my teacup... er... bit me."

Buffy was confused. "You mean there was a chip on the rim, and it nicked you on the lip?"

"No, not like that. For one, I take better care of my teacups. For another, it bit my nose."

Anya tried to dismiss Giles' story. "That's just ridiculous. You probably weren't fully awake."

"No, there was a red mark on my nose, and it didn't fade for almost an hour."

Willow frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know if it means anything, but the other morning I was brushing my hair, and there was something strange about my comb. Every time I ran it through my hair, it changed the color or style of my hair. I just figured it was something Tara had whipped up, but I never asked her..."

Tara scowled. "No, it wasn't me. I thought it was something you'd done. You like to change your hair a lot, so I just thought it was something you'd done to make it easier..."

"That sounds neat!" Dawn interrupted. "Can I borrow it sometime?"

Buffy put her foot down. "No, Dawn, you can't. And Willow, I think you ought to get rid of it." She paused herself, and then spoke softly. "I really don't want to admit this, but the other morning, in the shower, something happened to me, too. I... started growing hair."

Willow jumped in. "Your hair started growing? That sounds like it might be related to my comb." 

Buffy started blushing. "No, my hair didn't start growing. I started growing hair. I mean, all over, everywhere I was using my body wash. It took me almost an hour to get rid of it all."

Dawn chimed in. "Well, that explains what happened to all the razors in the house the other day."

Buffy grimaced. "I thought I'd replaced them in time. Sorry. And sorry, Giles, I threw out the bottle."

Giles sighed. "That's too bad. It might have been helpful to study... does anyone else have anything to offer?"

Dawn reluctantly raised her hand, and everyone turned to look at her. "The other day, on my way to school, I found a frisbee on the ground. I went to pick it up, but..."

Giles leaned forward. "Go on."

Dawn squirmed in her seat. "...it growled at me, and it had teeth all along the rim."

Buffy glared at her sister. "And you left it there on the ground, for anyone else to find?"

Dawn protested. "No! I carefully picked it up and put it in a trash can. And I swear it was trying to bite me the whole time."

Giles nodded and sighed – another valuable clue tossed out. "Well, that's everyone here but you, Tara. Have you anything you wish to contribute?"

Tara shook her head. "No, nothing odd to report. But the other night I ran into Spike, and he was complaining that somehow part of his crypt had turned into a swamp. He was running through his list of enemies who could do that, and not hate him enough to just kill him..."

"Well, then, you had best be on your guard." Giles looked around again. "It appears that we have a prankster on our hands, and while thus far he pranks have been harmless, we had best identify him – or her, or it – and stop them before things get out of hand. Now, unless anyone else has anything to offer, I suggest we adjourn and all consider who might be interested in pranking us."

The Scoobies all moved to leave, but Tara spotted a pie on a nearby shelf. She'd skipped breakfast, but she was still wary. She approached the pie. "Does anyone know where this came from? I mean, did anyone bring this with..."

Without warning, the pie suddenly launched itself off the shelf and splatted Tara right in the face. The other Scoobies all reacted immediately – Buffy rushed towards the shelf, Willow raced to Tara, Giles' eyes darted warily around the room, and Dawn dissolved into laughter.

And Anya marched over to another shelf and grabbed something that looked a bit like a human ear. "Alexander Lavelle Harris, get in here this instant!" she shouted.

Xander stumbled into the room, cupping one ear. "An, you didn't need to shout..." then he saw Tara standing there, dripping custard pie. "Oh. Um... oops?"

Buffy stomped up to Xander and glared at him. "Oops? Would you care to explain?"

Anya also glared at him. "I told you, Xander, not in the shop."

Xander put on his most ingratiating smile. "Technically, An, this isn't the shop proper... and it was an accident..."

Buffy reached up and grabbed him by the ear. "Just what was an accident? Are you saying you're responsible for all this?"

Anya sighed. "Buffy, please. In a way, this is my fault. And let go of his ear – you might rip it off, and I'm rather fond of holding those ears when he's..."

Buffy instantly released his ear. "Ew. Not another word." Instead, she turned to Anya. "Just how is this your fault?"

Anya began fidgeting. "After we canceled Xander's birthday party, I felt I needed to do something to make it up to him. You know, give him something special to make up for it. And we get all this weird junk mail here at the shop. Just as I was wondering what I could do for him, this catalog came from England, for what billed itself as a magical joke shop. I figured if I got him some things there, he'd stop moping. They had a 'grab bag' of various items, so I sent off for it and gave it to Xander. I did make him promise that he wouldn't use any of it in here, but..." she looked at Tara. "It's really not my fault. It came from England, and Giles is from England, so how dangerous could it be?"

Giles frowned at the unintended insult. "Remind me, Anya, to give you a bit of a lesson on magic in England. But right now, do you still have that catalog?"

"Of course I kept it." She glanced at Buffy and Dawn. "Unlike certain other people I could mention, I don't just throw out potentially valuable magical items, or leave them for unsuspecting trash men to find." She walked over to her desk and pulled it out of a drawer. "Here you go."

Giles looked at the garish cover. "'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.' Oh, my. I believe I'm going to have to get in touch with certain people back in England..."


End file.
